


dragonturn

by macha



Series: Georgia on My Mind [20]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-26
Updated: 2008-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 11:49:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macha/pseuds/macha





	dragonturn

__

### B04.03.01 Dragonlord Wars:  
in the gut, we are made.

and the name of the tale is:

dragonturn

there's no more give. not in the worlds, not in me either. yeah, that illusion's gone. now it's all take. i know that everything i'll ever get in life is what i take, and fight to keep. he knows it too, he just resists it. so i have my hoard, all stashed away, and he has sweet fuck-all. and never quite gets why.

i don't take the dragon form much, even yet, except in Greater Battles. i like the power of it, brute force, and all that armor takes no chances. but still, my image of myself tends to involve a knighthood, some shining armor, a good broadsword, and perhaps a damsel. playing the dragon seems obscurely wrong, like joining up with the other side. after all, still got the soul. could hold the cup. can reach the key. and what more is there after all?

just now i realize he knew it then, too, that i wasn't really stuck there. that i could change. i was a bit distracted at the time. he always was a brat.

you think i blame him? no, not really. i've known him a long time, and good or evil he's always oddly been the same. it's just his nature, see? to kick against the pricks, to take the piss with me. not like i haven't had my own daddy issues. maybe he knows already Darla's lesson about how very much he cannot win after he kills me. so he doesn't. but it does hurt him, all the same, every time we do the dance. wanting to be my mate, to rise to the smell of blood on the air, to sizzle a bit in sunlight. just waiting in him for me to draw it out, to invite him to go hunting.

so he is disappointed, every time he knocks me down and i come right back up. not what he wants from me, although it's all he ever gave me, so i know that feeling too. if he'd been smart enough to just stay down, maybe the boy wouldn't have earned so many hard lessons from me, back in the day. if he'd just used that useless brain of his, instead of leading with his cock every single time.... but no. didn't like it, though, when i bent him over. and still resents me for it. truth is, he wouldn't have lasted a day without me.

the trouble with poets is, they want the legend. the pure heart hunt for the unicorn. as if that could ever be anything that was real, a quest that mattered. but near the surface always between us was what we both recalled, a day when my Wild Hunt suited him very well. even when he was prey, when he was predator, when he was free. live long enough, most days come round again. if i ripped his heart out, caught his soul in a jar, would he bend to me one more time?

won't go to him. i'll let him come to me. he always will. like her, he's mine.


End file.
